Could We Start Again, Please?
by Broadwaypoetess
Summary: After Crucifixion. Think of it as Holy Saturday. Thoughts of Mary M, Judas, & Peter. pg13 for language. old fic, just moved


Disclaimer: Rated PG-13 for swearing, drug use, alcohol use, Judas, Mary, Peter, a sexy Zealot... Also, it's a JCS fic, so some younger readers could be offended...

Could We Start Again, Please? 

The thoughts of Mary Magdalene, Peter, and Judas Iscariot. 

_The characters are based on the New Stage Revival Production – Watch it now!_

  **_~-~-~-~-~Mary-Magdalene~-~-~-~-~_**

_                    Dying to see you, but, it shouldn't be like this...?_

She found that she couldn't stop shaking. Or crying. Her brown hair was down, dead, and in tangles. The edges of her black laced shawl were unraveling when her fingernails touched it. Her dress was being to show signs of wear and tear, and the fishnet stockings for sleeves were ripping at the elbows, shoulders, and back. Her eyes were no longer a sweet darkish brown, but reddish and with mud for the iris. She would find herself shaking uncontrollably in her room. She didn't know what to do. Mary Magdalene was currently in the fetal position, hugging her knees to drown out her sobbing, and her breathing, which had sounded asthmatic from her not-so-silent tears. 

She came out of her position and sat up. Mary knew she had to stop crying. She left her room. The smell of marijuana and liquor entered her nostrils when she stepped outside. But that was expected. The Apostles were suffering. She was suffering. Her apartment was like the _kingdom of suffering and sorrow_. She had always allowed the drugs, it was what many of the Apostles did, and what her friends did. Mary, with a tarnished reputation as it already was, did not smoke or drink as often as the rest. She looked around the living room. John was lying in an uncomfortable position on his guitar case. Mary smoothed his hair a bit and tried to move the case. He smelled of beer. Not heavily, so it was probably his first time drinking like this. His hair smelled of pot, though. She wanted to hold him and tell him it would be all right, but he had a girl of his own to do that. His woman was lying across from him, curled up into a small ball like an armadillo. 

She got up off the floor and looked about. Almost the entire Twelve were laying about. She checked the other rooms. Simon Zealotes was lying on his bed, his face redder than usual, and drying tears were still present on his cheeks. His mistress was next to him, her t-shirt torn and wrinkled. Mary walked past them and knew that they had been drinking. She spied a small chest in the corner of the room, and it had been recently opened, with the door ajar. Mary touched a small brandy bottle, small bags of pot, and a pack or two of cigarettes. She thought of throwing them out of course, but it seemed useless to take away these things when people can be so irritable. She left his room. 

She thought of checking in on Peter, but he was pissed off easily since he had been deemed as the One Who Denied. But, no one could understand what Judas was going through. There were witnesses at his death, but, there were witnesses at the Crucifixion that he could not have died. And he was, sprawled on his couch in his room, his head lolling off the leather armrest, as he was apparently staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Mary noticed that the room smelled only of a dark blood red wine, not of the more vile smelling alcohols and/or of illegal or legal drugs. She turned to him and knew that if someone needed comfort, it would be him. 

"Judas..." she whispered softly, "Judas..." 

She paused as he grew out of his thoughts and faced her. 

"Mary..." his voice cracked a little. He was trying to hide his sorrow, his fear, and above all, his shame. 

"Judas, I... I want you to know... that... that..." How was she to say it? How was she to say that she cared for him and wanted him to be all right? How was she to tell that she loved him, even though he betrayed the man that she loved more than anything? How was she to tell him that she forgave him, even though her heart ached? 

He was sitting up now and attentive. She broke down and fell to her knees. She didn't think she could ever stop crying. She didn't think she could overcome this... 

Two strong, muscular arms went around her and supported her up. She couldn't see, her eyes were clouded and her vision inconclusive. She felt herself near the couch and she sat down. One arm was around her waist and the other arm was propped up against the couch, the hand cradling her head. Mary fell against Judas' body and she couldn't stop her lament. The fingers on that hand were stroking her hair to soothe her. Her eyes opened and shut. She could feel Judas slouch again, and she began to drift of into sleep as a memory came to her... 

"Yes, I can understand that _she_ amuses, but to let her stroke you, kiss your hair, that hardly in your line. It's not that I object to her profession..." 

She remembered being shoved by the man who was comforting her now. 

**_~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Judas Iscariot~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~_**

_                    This was unexpected, what do I do now?_

Judas was going through mixed feelings. This woman _this woman_, was what he wanted, and now that she was upon him... he was perplexed. He was scared. If, if Jesus was too return as he did, and Judas wasn't even sure that he in fact had died. But, if Jesus were to return like Judas might have, then, what would he say now? What would he think? What would he do? This pressure, what good was to come from it? 

He shook his head vigorously to forget what was coming to him. He closed his eyes, and a strangled sob echoed around the room. Judas looked at Mary, her fingernails were digging into him, holding him closer from comfort. He didn't know who cried out in this uncontrollable pain. His eyes opened and the innocent brown that they once were had a reddish tint. Blood, mud, and slime. Blood money. It came to him... 

"I-don't-want your blood money!" 

"Oh, that doesn't matter, our expenses are good..." 

"I-don't-need your blood money!" 

"But, you might as well take it. We think that you should." 

"Think of the things you can do with that money,  
choose and charity, give to the poor  
we've noted your motives we noted your feelings.   
This isn't blood money its a fee nothing – fee nothing – fee nothing – fee nothing more!" 

He didn't want to remember... 

"You sad pathetic man! See you where you've brought us to!   
Our ideals die around us, and all because of you!   
The saddest cut of all, someone has to turn you in,   
like a common criminal, like a wounded animal!   
A jaded mandarin, a jaded mandarin!   
like a faded faded jaded jaded mandarin!" 

"Get out, they're waiting! Get out! They're waiting, they're waiting for you!" 

"Every time I look at you I don't understand  
why you let the things you did get so out of hand  
You'd have managed better if you'd had a plan!"

He gritted his teeth. 

"There he is! They're -- all asleep! The fools!" 

He shut his eyes and wanted to scream! 

"My God I saw him!  
He looked almost dead  
you beat him so hard I had to turn my head!   
You beat him so hard that he was bent and lame!   
And I know who everybody's gonna blame!   
I don't believe he knows I acted for all good.   
I'd save him all his suffering if I could.   
And-I-acted for all good!   
Save him if I could!" 

He opened his eyes and whispered, 

"Save him if I could..." 

**_~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*Peter*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~_**

_                        Before it gets too fright'ning..._

Peter found himself constantly shaking his head. He found himself looking around for anything to smoke or drown out the pain. Found himself. Like the subconscious mind, the dreamlike mind was all that was there, forcing him to look back, as the conscious mind made him a wandering vegetable. Smoke, drink, sleep. Smoke, drink, sleep. His conscious mind was telling him to do that, but his subconscious mind... 

"Yo! Hang on, Lord! We're gonna fight for you! Ahnn!" 

"Put away your swords! Don't you know that it's all over? It was nice, but now it's gone. Why are you obsessed with fighting? Stick to fishing from now on!" 

His.... denial... 

"I think I've seen you somewhere...  
I remember!  
You were with that man they took away!  
I recognize your _face_!" 

"You've got the wrong man, lady!  
I don't know him!  
And I wasn't where he was tonight.  
Never near the place..." 

"That's strange for I am sure I saw you with him.  
You were right by his side, and yet you denied?" 

"I tell you I was never ever with him!" 

"But I saw you too, it looked just like you!" 

"I DON'T KNOW HIM!!"

"Peter, don't you know what you have said?  
You've gone and cut him dead!" 

"I had to do it, don't you see?  
Or else they'd go for me..." 

"It's what he told us you would do.  
I wonder how he knew..." 

Peter shook his head. He didn't do this. He wouldn't do this! It was planned! Never ever ever would he have done it! But, it was said, and done... Peter cursed himself. He went to where he could get a supply. Simon. 

Simon was lying with his mistress, clearly unconscious. Peter went into the cupboard in the back and removed some beer and marijuana. Peter left the room and went to walk out onto the patio. He heard a loud sob in Judas' room. Judas. _The son of a bitch that made it happen – he had to be jealous, didn't he? Death should've came to the bastard!_ Peter thought. _Scum!_ Oh, but in that room, a new surprise! Mary Magdalene on top of him! _Whore!_ Peter began to hate her, hate Judas, hate the world! There she lay, Jesus' woman lying on the Betrayer! 

Peter scowled and took a long swig of beer on the way to the patio. Then he took a long drag of his joint. He repeated this multiple times, until the pot was ash and the bottle was almost gone. He stumbled drunkenly and the bottle slipped from his fingertips. It smashed, but he didn't care. He cried out into the sky! 

"Oh! God! I'll never ever know  
Why you chose me  
for your lies!" 

He slipped over a shard of glass and landed hard on his back and his head hit the end of a lounge chair. Tears swelled in his eyes, he knew what he said, and thought, and did. He knew. He was shamed. 

"Before it gets too frightening..." 

"We'd ought to call a vote..." Judas and Mary were up. 

"So, could we start again, please?" 

Peter looked at the sky,  
"So could we start again, please?" 

Judas looked at Mary, then at Peter,  
"So, could we start again, please?" 

Mary looked at the view,  
"So, could we start again...? 

*********************************************************************

**Broadwaypoetess:** My first JCS ficcie. Sad, ain't it? The sequel to this is entitled "Heaven on Their Minds." It happens a few hours after this, right before Easter Sunday (this fic takes place on Holy Saturday), however these are just the thoughts of Judas Iscariot and Mary Magdalene. It's pretty good. I don't really like JCS slash because of people being easily offended, I guess you _could_ find traces, but, it wasn't truly intended. Judas likes MARY, remember? Right after _I Don't Know How To Love Him_, but before _Damned For All Time/Blood Money_...

**Judas:** They get it!

**Broadwaypoetess:** He could be bi, for all we know.

**Judas:** They get it!

**Broadwaypoetess: **Bi, ya get my drift? Bisexual.

**Judas:** Yes, 'Poetess, they get it, they get your drift. Thank you!

**Broadwaypoetess:** I'm not a " 'Poetess" I'm a Broadwaypoetess!!!


End file.
